Gone
by Tribble Master
Summary: After growing up on the road, Dean comes to understand what his dad is doing and discovers his passion for hunting. Warning: AU, Death. Some vague spoilers.


**Beta: **PlatniumRoseLady**  
>Warnings: <strong>AU, Death.**  
>Disclaimer: <strong>I won't run anymore, they aren't mine**.  
>Spoiler: <strong>S3, S1, S2 enders. Vague episode references sprinkled around.**  
>Summary: <strong>After growing up on the road, Dean comes to understand what his dad is doing and discovers his passion for hunting. 

**Gone**

Sam leaned against the rough bark and smiled. He liked the woods. It was a welcome relief to being trapped inside the apartment again. It may have been a different state, but the places never changed. There were always water stains on the ceiling, cracks in the bath tub, and that poster of Dean's dream car in his room. Some Impala, that Sam just didn't understand his fascination with. And of course, as always, Sir was away working. Well, okay, Dad was away working. But Dean always called him Sir. Ever since Mom died in the nursery fire, this had been their lifestyle. A new state, a new school, a constant road trip. He had never known Mom, and frankly was a little bit miffed that she had walked out of his life so soon.

Sometimes before he went to bed, he'd ask Dean for a story- Like, were Dad was. "Aww, Sammy," Dean would roll his eyes, "he's out doing car maintenance. Boring."

But if Sam really begged, and made his hazel eyes go a little wider Dean would change the story. "Fine, fine," Dean would say sitting cross legged on Sam's bed. "You want the truth? He's a superhero. He hunts monsters."

_Monsters._ Sam could hardly believe it. Especially the way Dean described boogey men, and wendi-somethings. His favorite story was about the Indian burial ground, and the hoards of bugs Dad had to face. And then there was the time Dad was cursed by a Yellow Eyed Demon. "He's hunting for that guy, still. To undo all the trouble he caused, with bright yellow eyes that trap people." After the gory way Dean described the bodies left in the wake, Sam had had nightmares for weeks.

Sometimes after school, like today, he would play around in the woods behind the apartment. It wasn't like his homework was hard, third grade was easy. As he leaned against the tree, he flipped open his pocket knife repeatedly. He liked the way it clicked as he made up monsters to fight.

He gauged the way the bushes rustled and determined it was one of those...those…. Sam searched his memory. "Black dog!" he grinned wolfishly and tiptoed forward.

Sam held his pocket knife in front of himself, steady like it was a sword. One day he hopped to get a pump action shotgun. That way he could be a hero just like his father. As he got closer to the bush he thrust out his knife and stabbed at the offending shrubbery.

A squirrel ran out from underneath, terrified. "Oh no!" Sam cried aloud. "Your reign of terror ends here! No more munching and crunching on bones for you!"

Sam laughed as he chased the squirrel until it eventually ran up tree. Breathless, cheeks flushed, he looked around the woods happily. "Every monster will fear me!"

Suddenly, Sam froze as he heard a twig snap. He turned around to see what he was facing this time. There was nothing else moving. "Ha ha, Dean." He called out. But he knew that Dean wasn't there, Dean was working at some old diner as a bus boy. Sam was alone, and he knew it.

There was another crunch. And another. They were definitely footsteps. The color drained from his face. There was still nothing else to see. Sam frowned. There was nothing dangerous out here, he repeated to himself. Nothing. This wasn't even a forest, just a clump of trees. He was alone, he repeated.

But the ground was trembling with footsteps coming closer. He flicked his pocket knife open and close and open and close in anticipation. Then there was nothing. No sound, no birds chirping, no twigs snapping. Sam felt a wave of relief. He forced himself to laugh away his jitters. All the stories Dean had told him were just getting to him.

"What are you doing?" purred a voice behind him.

Sam turned around and backed away from the voice behind him. He saw who it was now, and he didn't like it.

She was slender, to the point of starvation. Her jeans hung low on her hips, and the black camisole was loose on her. Even in the chilly fall air, she didn't appear to be freezing. Her marble skin was covered in scars and jet black tattoos twisting in unknowable patterns. But she was still somehow abstractly beautiful, and it hurt to look at her. Her light red hair fell over her shoulders as she leaned toward him, locking him her green eyes.

"It's not safe out here. Especially for little boys."

"I'm ten," Sam said definitely. He paused, and lowered his voice. "I mean, um… I'm going to go home now."

"Why?" She took steps toward him, deceivingly graceful. "I thought you were going to slay monsters."

"Uh," Sam looked around sheepishly. "There aren't any, really."

She cupped his chin in her hand. Sam froze. He hadn't remembered her coming that close. He could feel her breath unfurl on his face. "That's too bad. You could have been a great hero."

Sam tried to step back from her, but she grabbed his arm. "Not so fast little one." As swept the back of her hand down his cheek, he shuddered. Where her skin touched his sweating brow, he felt a tingling sensation. It paralyzed him, and he could feel his heart slowing down.

His hazel eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell on the leaves. She bent down and tut-tuted. "Not even big enough to be a snack." She sighed as her claws came out.

-o-o-o-o-o-

He woke up in the story he'd always wanted to be in, but never realized how suffocating it could be. He knew without a doubt now that monsters were real, starting with the one that killed mom. All those times Dean had made him spar, he knew he was just getting prepared. But nothing could prepare him really for those yellow eyes, and those nightmares that followed in him along the forgotten roads.

He woke up in a motel room, six weeks after leaving Stanford, and his brother was there. They were back to hunting ghosts, and a part of him wondered why he had ever wanted this life.

He woke up in a motel room, six months after Dad had died, and his brother was stitching up a bullet wound.

He woke up in a motel room, and his brother was dead. These things never last. Death was too fleeting. But that didn't mean he couldn't feel pain, his body was taking blows. Too many ghosts and demons, and there was never an end.

He woke up in a motel room, and the world was falling. He was so tired. But there was a war he needed to fight. A choice he had to make.

He woke up in a different world, in a different time, and Sam had never realized how quickly his childhood would disappear.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Dean came home, bone tired and sick of this town already. He stumbled into the kitchen to see what there was to fix up for dinner. "Sam," he called out. "Whaddya want for dinner?"

When Sam didn't reply, he looked up from the refrigerator. "Sam?" He walked towards the room they shared. "Sam?"

Dean felt his stomach drop when he realized he was alone. Sir was going to kill when he got home. He threw aside all the troubles he'd had that day and grabbed his coat. He cursed to himself for telling Sam those awful stories. That kid thought he was a goddamn monster hunter. He headed to the small patch of woods behind their building, stomping as he went. Dean wanted his presence known.

As far as he could hear he was the only thing in the woods. He realized that the only thing worse than Sir being there to yell at him, was Sir not being there to help hm. Dean began to yell, as he moved quickly through the trees.

Stupid dad and his stupid mechanic job. Dean wished for the millionth time he knew what his dad was running from. It was only when he was drunk as hell that Dean could get the vaguest clue. Yellow eyes. What the fuck kind of clue was that?

In his rush, Dean nearly tripped over Sam. He froze at the sight, eyes bulging. Then he dropped to his knees and vomited.

Sam's throat was ripped wide open. There were purple bruises all over his arms. He'd been in the grip of a nightmare, and trying to escape. There was only a trickle of blood now. Everything around Dean…All of it was winding down, crawling to a stop.

Dean was so tired of running away from his father's fears. Running had only lead them to a dead end. Dean held his brother to his chest, and rocked him back and forth. "I'm so sorry, Sammy," he felt the hot tears slide down his cheeks.

His head snapped up as he heard several twigs snapping. Heavy footsteps were approaching. He flicked open his knife. Dad was a marine at heart and made sure Dean never went anywhere without his silver blade. When she approached Dean flinched. Blood was dripping down her arms.

"Oh my." She smiled. "I think you've walked into the wrong place."

Dean jumped to his feet and ran at her. She tensed at his approach and easily swatted him, sending him into a tree. No one could have possibly been that strong, Dean thought fearfully. He got to his feet shaking, and clutched his blade even tighter.

He dodged her blow this time and got close enough to slash his blade over her arm. To his surprise the blood boiled out of her skin, frothy, and her skin burned. She let out a shriek and backed off. "Well, well," she hissed, "We'll have to end this later little hunter."

Dean lunged at her again, but she jumped away. In an instant she was gone. She had called him a hunter, but he didn't understand why. Just like he didn't understand how she could be too fast, too strong; to… it was just all wrong. Dean looked down at Sam. His brother still wasn't breathing. "I'll get her next time, I promise."

No response. No laughter. No, "Monsters are only stories, Dean." It was starting to sink into his bones just how real this was. Dean quietly resolved to find out what that woman was and kill her. The possibility frightened him, but these things had been done. Sam probably wasn't the first, or the last.

Dean knew his dad would never understand, he was too busy running away. There was no way Dean would follow him into the family business. How could he ever be a mechanic when there were things out there like her?

There was hunting to do.

**The end**


End file.
